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Wednesday, June 27, 2012

This was a question that came up during a meeting of the Awareness project advisory board two weeks ago at Edinburgh Napier University. Awareness is a project bringing together researchers and projects interested in self-awareness in autonomic systems. In philosophy and psychology self-awareness refers to the ability of an animal to recognise itself as an individual, separate from other individuals and the environment. Self-awareness in humans is, arguably, synonymous with sentience. A few other animals, notably elephants, dolphins and some apes appear to demonstrate self-awareness. I think far more species may well experience self-awareness - but in ways that are impossible for us to discern.

In artificial systems it seems we need a new and broader definition of self-awareness - but what that definition is remains an open question. Defining artificial self-awareness as self-recognition assumes a very high level of cognition, equivalent to sentience perhaps. But we have no idea how to build sentient systems, which suggests we should not set the bar so high. And lower levels of self-awareness may be hugely useful* and interesting - as well as more achievable in the near-term.

Let's start by thinking about what a minimally self-aware system would be like. Think of a robot able to monitor its own battery level. One could argue that, technically, that robot has some minimal self-awareness, but I think that to qualify as 'self-aware' the robot would also need some mechanism to react appropriately when its battery level falls below a certain level. In other words, a behaviour linked to its internal self-sensing. It could be as simple as switching on a battery-low warning LED, or as complex as suspending its current activity to go and find a battery charging station.

So this suggests a definition for minimal self-awareness:

A self-aware system is one that can monitor some internal property and react, with an appropriate behaviour, when that property changes.

So how would we measure this kind of self-awareness? Well if we know the internal mechanism because we designed it), then it's trivial to declare the system as (minimally) self-aware. But what if we don't? Then we have to observe the system's behaviour and deduce that it must be self-aware; it must be reasonably safe to assume an animal visits the watering hole to drink because of some internal sensing of 'thirst'.

But it seems to me that we cannot invent some universal test for self-awareness that encompasses all self-aware systems, from the minimal to the sentient; a kind of universal mirror test. Of course the mirror test is itself unsatisfactory. For a start it only works for animals (or robots) with vision and - in the case of animals - with a reasonably unambiguous behavioural response that suggests "it's me!" recognition.

And it would be trivially easy to equip a robot with a camera and image processing software that compares the camera image with a (mirror) image of itself, then lights an LED, or makes a sound (or something) to indicate "that's me!" if there's a match. Put the robot in front of a mirror and the robot will signal "that's me!". Does that make the robot self-aware? This thought experiment shows why we should be sceptical about claims of robots that pass the mirror test (although some work in this direction is certainly interesting). It also demonstrates that, just as in the minimally self-aware robot case, we need to examine the internal mechanisms.

So where does this leave us? It seems to me that self-awareness is, like intelligence, not one thing that animals or robots have more or less of. And it follows, again like intelligence, there cannot be one test for self-awareness, either at the minimal or the sentient ends of the self-awareness spectrum.

A minimal level of self-awareness, illustrated by my example of a robot able to sense its own battery level and stop what it's doing to go and find a recharging station when the battery level drops below a certain level, has obvious utility. But what about higher levels of self-awareness? A robot that is able to sense that parts of itself are failing and either adapt its behaviour to compensate, or fail safely is clearly a robot we're likely to trust more than a robot with no such internal fault detection. In short, its a safer robot because of this self-awareness.

But these robots, able to respond appropriately to internal changes (to battery level, or faults) are still essentially reactive. A higher level of artificial self-awareness can be achieved by providing a robot with an internal model of itself. Having an internal model (which mirrors the status of the real robot as self-sensed, i.e. it's a continuously updating self-model) allows a level of predictive control. By running its self-model inside a simulation of its environment the robot can then try out different actions and test the likely outcomes of alternative actions. (As an aside, this robot would be a Popperian creature of Dennett's Tower of Generate and Test - see my blog post here.) By assessing the outcomes of each possible action for its safety the robot would be able to choose the action most likely to be the safest. A self-model represents, I think, a higher level of self-awareness with significant potential for greater safety and trustworthiness in autonomous robots.

To answer the 2nd part of Andrey's question, the robot would do its job better, not for selfish reasons - but for self-aware reasons.(postscript added 4 July 2012)

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Last week at the Cheltenham Science Festival we debated the question Can robots think? It's not a new question. Here, for instance, is a wonderful interview from 1961 on the very same question. So, the question hasn't changed. Has the answer?

Well it's interesting to note that I, and fellow panelists Murray Shanahan and Lilian Edwards, were much more cautious last week in Cheltenham, than our illustrious predecessors. Both on the question can present day robots think: answer No. And will robots (or computers) be able to think any time soon: answer, again No.

The obvious conclusion is that 50 years of Artificial Intelligence research has failed. But I think that isn't true. AI has delivered some remarkable advances, like natural speech recognition and synthesis, chess programs, conversational AI (chatbots) and lots of 'behind the scenes' AI (of the sort that figures out your preferences and annoyingly presents personalised advertising on web pages). But what is undoubtedly true was Weisner, Selfridge and Shannon were being very optimistic (after all AI had only been conceived a decade earlier by Alan Turing). Whereas today, perhaps chastened and humbled, most researchers take a much more cautious approach to these kinds of claims.

But I think there are more complex reasons.

One is that we now take a much stricter view of what we mean by 'thinking'. As I explained last week in Cheltenham, it's relatively easy to make a robot that behaves as if it is thinking (and, I'm afraid, also relatively easy to figure out that the robot is not really thinking). So, it seems that a simulation of thinking is not good enough*. We're now looking for the real thing.

That leads to the second reason. It seems that we are not much closer to understanding how cognition in animals and humans works than we were 60 years ago. Actually, that's unfair. There have been tremendous advances in cognitive neuroscience but - as far as I can tell - those advances have brought us little closer to being able to engineer thinking in artificial systems. That's because it's a very very hard problem. And, to add further complication, it remains a philosophical as well as a scientific problem.

In Cheltenham Murray Shanahan brilliantly explained that there are three approaches to solving the problem. The first is what we might call a behaviourist approach: don't worry about what thinking is, just try and make a machine that behaves as if it's thinking. The second is the computational modelling approach: try and construct, from first principles, a theoretical model of how thinking should work, then implement that. And third, the emulate real brains approach: scan real brains in sufficiently fine detail and then build a high fidelity model with all the same connections, etc, in a very large computer. In principle, the second and third approaches should produce real thinking.

What I find particularly interesting is that the first of these 3 approaches is more or less the one adopted by the conversational AI programs entered for the Loebner prize competition. Running annually since 1992, the Loebner prize is based on the test for determining if machines can think, famously suggested by Alan Turing in 1950 and now known as the Turing test. To paraphrase: if a human cannot tell whether she is conversing with a machine or another human - and it's a machine - then that machine must be judged to be thinking. I strongly recommend reading Turing's beautifully argued 1950 paper.

No chatbot has yet claimed the $100,000 first prize, but I suspect that we will see a winner sooner or later (personally I think it's a shame Apple hasn't entered Siri). But the naysayers will still argue that the winner is not really thinking (despite passing the Turing test). And I think I would agree with them. My view is that a conversational AI program, however convincing, remains an example of 'narrow' AI. Like a chess program a chatbot is designed to do just one kind of thinking: textual conversation. I believe that true artificial thinking ('general' AI) requires a body.

And hence a new kind of Turing test: for an embodied AI, AKA robot.

And this brings me back to Murray's 3 approaches. My view is that the 3rd approach 'emulate real brains' is at best utterly impractical because it would mean emulating the whole organism (of course, in any event, your brain isn't just the 1300 or so grammes of meat in your head, it's the whole of your nervous system). And, ultimately, I think that the 1st (behaviourist - which is kind of approaching the problem from the outside in) and 2nd (computational modelling - which is an inside out approach) will converge.

So when, eventually, the first thinking robot passes the (as yet undefined) Turing test for robots I don't think it will matter very much whether the robot is behaving as if it's thinking - or actually is, for reasons of its internal architecture, thinking. Like Turing, I think it's the test that matters.

*Personally I think that a good enough behavioural simulation will be just fine. After all, an aeroplane is - in some sense - a simulation of avian flight but no one would doubt that it is also actually flying.